Desired: The Untold Story of Samson and Delilah (Lost Loves of the Bible) (15 page)

That was the last moment of peace I would ever know.

The mother stood and trotted away, looking frightened by what she had just brought into the world—startled by its perfection, its miraculous entrance on a dark night in this cold world.

I did not know what to do. Shivering myself, I rubbed the lamb clean of the fluids, seeing the steam rising all around it, stealing the heat of its body. I chased the ewe, offering her lamb to her like I was holding out a loaf of bread at market. She had a wild look in her eye and refused to let me come near. But I knew this: she had enough fleece and enough fat, to last for several hours out here. The lamb could not survive this world without warmth. It had moments to live perhaps, though I could not be sure. I ran back into the home with it, nestling the newborn against the other sleeping ewe. The newborn bleated for milk.

I thought hard of our home, of what was in it, what I could use. I thought of nothing. I had to get the mother in here, nursing, or the newborn would still die. Bile was so high in my throat I could taste it. I wished I had not eaten so much. My first full meal became a curse for me now.

I decided to apply more force to the situation. I ran out into the night, to find the ewe and drag her back. Clouds rolled over the moon, making the way difficult. Stones cut into my bare feet, and I twisted my ankles against rocks as I ran, looking behind shrubs, running further from home, calling softly. I did not want to call a wolf or lion, only my poor scared ewe. I looked for more than an hour, I think. Maybe more.

A bleat came to me on the wind. I grew completely still, opening my ears, willing my whole body to do nothing but listen. Then I turned to my right, and walked in that direction. Parting a pair of low bushes, I saw her. She was on her side, her eyes wide and white, like two perfect moons. Her mouth hung open, her tongue hanging out, touching the ground, covered in sticks and dirt. She did not pull it back into her mouth. I think she recognized me. I don’t know. It could have just been her eyes widening as she died.

Behind her, steam rose to the heavens and departed. A dark pool spread around her haunches as I bit my lip to keep from crying. Edging forward, I looked at her. Hind legs hung out of her birth canal. A second lamb had been coming. She must have panicked when the birth became too hard. That is why she ran from me. She did not know how to have a baby. She did not want to have a baby, not in winter. Even a stupid ewe knows that is disaster, with no fresh grain to feed the mother, nothing for the lambs to graze on after they weaned. They had all been doomed to die. She ran from me out of fear and anger, I knew. I had done this to her.

“I am so sorry,” I whispered, reaching out to touch her muzzle.

A high growl made the hairs on my arm stand up. A cat was nearby, perhaps a lion or mountain cat. Blood was in the air, and everyone was hungry. No one waited for spring.

I do not remember walking home. I do not remember if I cried, but I know it would have made no difference. What would happen to me next was already written somewhere far above, where my cries could not be heard.

The newborn lamb was already dead when I returned. The other ewe had not known what to do with it. It froze to death, wet and hungry, surrounded by my sleeping family. If they had heard it bleating, they did nothing.

The next morning, when the sun revealed my stupidity, my father’s face was grey like ash from a cold fire.

“How am I to get money from that?” he said, gesturing to the lifeless lamb. I swallowed and looked at my toes. They were flecked with blood. He did not ask.

“And where is the ewe?”

“Outside.”

“Dead?”

“Yes, Father.”

“So she ate my grain, gobbled my money, and died. You let her mate before her time, before all natural order would have it, and now ewe and lamb are both dead.”

I said nothing of the second lamb, my third victim.
Let the lion eat them both, before my father finds them,
I prayed.
Take away the evidence of my sin.

Father grabbed me by the robe and dragged me across the dirt floor until my face was just under his.

“You are a curse upon this house!”

I whimpered without meaning to. He slapped me.

I put a hand to my face and turned away, but he moved his hands to the center of my linen shift and tore it open. My swollen belly was plain to see.

I heard my brothers snicker above me in the loft. “No different than her ewes.”

“At least we can shave the ewes,” another replied, and they broke into laughter.

My father raised his hands to my throat, choking me, the anger in his face a mystery to me. My guilt felt a part of me, like a second heart. I went limp, willing my father to kill me.

“Shame!” he screamed. I meditated on that word in the darkness I swam in, as I lie dying on the dirt floor. I could smell my ewe, the surprising, sharp smell of birth and blood. Feet ran past my head, with a strange metal clapping between the steps. Stars fell all around my head, little bells that sparkled before hitting the earth.

Someone touched my neck, tenderly. Anger swelled up in my darkness. I did not want my death to be interrupted. Not all murder was sin! Some murders were grace!

“We had an agreement,” a woman’s voice said.

I opened my eyes, groaning. I wanted to stop her.

My father spit in my face, his final good-bye. Strong arms went under my back and legs, lifting me to a woman’s soft chest. It was Tanis; the perfume of the temple gave her away. I could not look up at her face. I was dirty. I did not want to be saved dirty. I wanted to swim in the darkness, a little further, and disappear from everyone. But I was saved nonetheless. I closed my eyes, squeezing out tears. Everything I did was cursed.

Tanis carried me out and into the streets. She paused only once, setting me down in a doorway to remove the chains between her ankles. She caught me staring at them and shrugged.

“When I heard you were in trouble, I did not take them off. No time.”

“Why do you wear them?”

“The chains make me graceful. Men like women who sway with each step.”

Her ankles were red and raw. I wanted to cry for her. Why did I bring grief to everyone?

She patted my shoulder. “No one makes me wear them.”

“What’s going to happen to my other ewe?”

She studied me for a few moments, sitting on her haunches. “Don’t you want to know what is going to happen to you?”

“No. No. I don’t.”

“Your father will most likely kill the ewe and eat her.”

The sun rose over our shoulders to the east, casting a prim yellow light over us. I saw Tanis’s face clearly, the morning sun harsh on her kind features. Now I saw there were wrinkles around her eyes, deep lines, the scars of time, marring her beauty. I glanced up at the sun, hating it for touching her, for allowing me to see her this way. I closed my eyes and looked down.

“Everyone will be awake soon. We should go.”

I did not understand.

She stood, holding out her hand to me, her chains dangling from her other hand. I accepted her help and stood, and together we fled through the quiet stone streets, our feet making a soft beating noise as they landed against each stone. To me, it was like the sound of a heart beating in the stillness of the city. Tanis rescued me in my death, and a new life was given to me.

I did not want it.

“Is this Delilah then?”

A man sat upon a high-backed chair at the top of marble stairs with crouching lions resting on each stair tread, daring the unwise to approach. He was bald, with a stern face and broad shoulders. His legs were bare, easy to see under his robe as he sat. They were covered with coarse black hair. It made me uneasy.

Tanis nodded. We were dirty from the day’s walk, and my feet hurt terribly. I braced my knees to stand straight and proud.

“Go and sleep, Tanis. I will watch over her.”

Tanis nodded and bowed, exiting through doors that were rimmed in black and white stripes, with bold blue mosaic centers. Inside each center was a golden lion. The walls all around these doors were covered in the same blue tiles and rimmed at ceiling and floor with the same black and white pattern.

As the doors opened and then closed behind her, I peeked into the room. There were golden couches with lifeless forms of women draped across them. Beautiful fabrics covered the women, linens dyed for hours until they made your eyes dance. None of the women stirred. Tanis lay down on a couch, pulling a blue linen over her feet, and closed her eyes.

“So, Delilah. Welcome to Ashdod, and to the court of Dagon.”

“Thank you.”

“I am Hannibal.”

He stood, and I took a step back, holding in my breath. The room was shifting under my feet.

“You will make a wonderful sacrifice. I am sure Dagon will think you are tasty and ripe to eat. We’ll only have to roast you a short while since you are so young.”

“Yes.”

My knees were trembling. I pressed them together to make them stop, watching him as I did.

He cocked his head, grinning. “I’m making humor, Delilah. Tanis saved you for a reason. She has a good eye. She’s brought me most of my girls, did you know that? Any girl Tanis picks for me has served Dagon well.”

“I will be a good servant too. Should I start now?” I exhaled, hard, to clear my head, looked for a door I could run through and pretend to fetch mending or cleaning rags. Any door would be a good one. I had to get away.

“You are with child. I will not put you to work yet. Let me bring you some wine. And bread. Food is always good, yes? Food and wine, first thing in the morning, makes the whole day more pleasant.”

I did not know if this was a trap. Or a test. I did not know this man.

“No, thank you.”

He stopped and turned to look at me, as if I had admitted some great crime.

“Not eat? Not drink? Nothing?”

“I’m not hungry. Or thirsty. But thank you.”

“If I did not know your story, I would never guess you were lying. You are very good at lying.”

He clapped his hands, and a servant appeared. He whispered something to the servant, who looked at me and grinned before disappearing again. A moment later, the servant returned with two others, each bearing a tray stacked over his head with foods and wines. There were fruits (though at this time of the year, this surely was some magic trick), and nuts, and breads, and oils, and vinegars for dipping, and slices of meat, and raisins, and a bowl of milk large enough to bathe in. The servants set these down on a table near me and exited.

“Sit there,” Hannibal said, gesturing to a stool in front of the table. I obeyed, trembling. My stomach lifted and lurched, wanting me to bury myself face-first in the foods. I sat on my hands to keep myself strong.

I sat here, not moving, trying not to breathe and taste the foods in the air, until a single tear rolled down my cheek. Hannibal circled behind me, and his hand wiped the tear away.

“Do not lie to me again, Delilah. You are hungry. And thirsty.”

I nodded, my throat burning.

“Eat. Drink. There is no shame here.”

If he said anything else, I didn’t hear it. I was eating from a bowl, from a table, in the light, for the first time in my life. I could not believe how dazzling the wine looked, how pure and calm milk could be in a bowl, like a cloud had been caught! How the bread was brown and crisp and how the darker spots made it crunch in my mouth. My eyes had never eaten with me. It was a new world.

Hannibal sat across from me as my eating slowed, sooner than I wanted. My bulging abdomen sometimes left me no room for food, though my appetite raged unaware. I licked my fingers and laced them under my stomach, holding it up. Had I ever been so full?

I clenched my jaw to keep a yawn from escaping. I would not sleep yet! I did not want to close my eyes. The food was too beautiful. I wanted to clutch the bread to my chest like I saw lovers holding each other.

He saw my longing and grabbed the bread, pressing it into my hands. “You might as well sleep with it. If you don’t, you’ll wake up and miss it.”

I giggled, partly drunk with food and partly drunk with wine, and he broke into a wide grin.

“I have one thing I must do before you sleep here.”

He reached into his belt, a wide sash tied at his waist, and retrieved a small dagger, its blade no longer than his palm. It glittered in the morning sun that was illuminating the chamber from small openings above. His hand reached out for my neck, and I whimpered as his other hand closed in. I felt a tug at my scalp then he stepped back.

He was holding a lock of my hair, its edges cut clean and smooth.

“Good girl. Now get some sleep. Everything will be all right now.”

I could not look back up and meet his eye.

“I am very sorry,” he said.

“For what?” I glanced up and around, for a clue as to what he was going to do to me next.

“For everything that brought you to me. Tanis did not bring you here to hurt you. She saved you. She has nothing but good plans for you. In time, I hope you will begin to heal.”

My throat burned and knotted. I tried to bear my neck down, to push the painful lump back down. I could cry when I was alone.